


Panicked Questions

by fangirlfiction



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-06 17:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlfiction/pseuds/fangirlfiction
Summary: Description: Bucky just wants to know why you’re always covered in blood.Warnings: Lots of mentions of blood (sorry, it was my prompt), fighting, mentions of injuries. Mild, but frequent swearing (my potty mouth came to play).Prompt: “Whose blood is that on your shirt?!”





	Panicked Questions

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for @/softhairbarnes 750 follower celebration on Tumblr! It is also my apology for all the angst I’ve been posting. This one has more fluff, I promise! Also also, this is an incredibly appropriate post for today because it’s my birthday and I’m always injured! Just ask @barnesrogersvstheworld.

“Nat, I hope you’re almost done, because we’ve got a whole bunch of Hydra agents coming this way!”

Natasha turns to look at you, her fiery red hair brushing the tops of her shoulders as she moves. “Still 50% left, can you hold them off?”

You glance down the hall at the approaching agents, sizing them up. “I can buy you 2 extra minutes, no more than that.”

“Deal.”

You smile at her before running out of the room and down the hall, pulling your gun from your belt as you neared closer to the 5 agents. You shot and killed the front man, and the other 4 scattered for cover in response. Your eyes followed the nest closest agent, who ran into a nearby room. You crept along the wall, gun raised, before quickly stepping into the room and scanning for the man. You saw movement from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t register it fast enough, and the agent ran forward and knocked your gun from your hand. You watched the gun slide across the ground and you turned to face the agent before punching him in the eye. He swung back at you, and you narrowly avoided his fist. You both continued to swing at each other, blocking and jabbing when necessary. You block an elbow that was intended for your face, and you use his momentum to push him over. As he is scrambling to stand, you pull your knife from your boot and stab him in the shoulder as he lunges at you.

The knife in his shoulder sends him staggering backwards and he yells out in a mix of anger and pain before lunging at you again. He knocks the knife out of your hand and you elbow him in the face, breaking his nose. He uses your momentum to knock you to the ground, before he rolls you onto your back and straddles you, hands sliding up your body until they wrap around your neck. You gasp for air around his grip, trying uselessly to punch and flail him off of you. You see his nose still gushing blood, so hit his nose again, sending blood flying onto your suit below him. He rears back in shock and pain before grabbing your neck and squeezing so hard you immediately see stars. You look around you for a weapon, eyes searching for a weapon, before they finally land on your gun that is just out of your grasp.

You reach up and shove your thumb into the man’s eye socket, and when he pulls away in pain you reach for the gun, nearly sighing in relief when your hand closes around the grip. You turn back and shoot the man point blank, and his body drops onto yours lifelessly. The sound of gunshots brings 2 of the other agents running into the room, so you shoot them before they can shoot you. You collapse back, tired, before gathering your strength and pushing the agent off of you. You start to stand, back to the door, when you hear another shot ring out. You stand frozen waiting for the pain, but when it doesn’t come, you turn towards the door. Natasha is standing there, gun in hand, the 5th Hydra agent at her feet.

You smile at her. “Thanks.”

She smiles back and shrugs, “Don’t mention it.” You see her looking at your suit before she laughs. “He’s gonna freak.”

You walk over to her and the two of you begin walking to the Quinjet, side by side. “Nah. Doubt he’ll even notice.”

She snorts but says nothing.

Two hours later, the Quinjet touches down outside of the compound, and Bucky is already at the foot of the ramp waiting when you descend.

“How was the-“ He cuts himself off when he sees the front of your suit, blood staining the top half. **“Whose blood is that?!”**

He rushes forward, scanning your body for injuries as you laugh and reply, “Not mine. Some Hydra thug’s.”

He sighs, clearly relieved, and Nat walks by and comments before he can say anything else. “Told ya.”

*

You hop around the mat, fists raised, sweat coating your entire body. You watch as Sam pants heavily, hands propped on his knees, clearly losing his drive. “Come on birdbrain, is that all you’ve got?”

Sam looks up at you with a glare. “You know, you talk a lot of shit for someone so small.”

You start to lunge at him, and he jumps back 6 feet in fear. You laugh before retorting, “Stop calling me small, or I’ll kick your ass again.”

His response is cut off by the door to the gym slamming closed, and you both look over to see Clint walking towards you, a smirk on his face. “I see Sam is having a great time right now.”

You laugh and Sam scoffs loudly. “Look man, she’s a freaking animal. A lion. A wolf.”

You place your hand over your heart, flattered. “Sam Wilson, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You turn to Clint and laugh. “He’s a terrible sparring partner, I beat him every time.”

Clint shakes his head, unconvinced. “No, I’ve seen you in here before, you just kick ass.”

Sam mutters under his breath, “I’d need two of me to take her down.”

His comment sparks an idea in your head. “Two of you? Okay, I’m in. Get wrapped up, Clint.”

Clint turns to you in confusion. “What? No, I’m not gonna fight you.”

“You’re right, you’re not gonna fight me. You AND Sam are going to fight me.”

Both men immediately start protesting, and you hear Sam yell out, “…and have that frozen assassin kill me in my sleep? I think not!”

You roll your eyes. “Bucky wouldn’t kill you in your sleep. You’d be awake, obviously.” Sam rolls his eyes back at you. “And anyways, it’s for training purposes. I just went on a mission with Nat last week where I had to fight off multiple people and I struggled. I could use the practice.”

Sam and Clint stare at you and glance at each other, and you flash them your most dazzling smile. Sam groans and Clint sighs. “Fine.”

Clint wraps his hands to match yours and Sam’s before joining you on the mat with Sam. They both stand across from you, and you all stand there and size each other up for a minute. Tired of waiting, you lunge at Clint first, aware that he’s going to have more energy than Sam will. You try to punch him, but he blocks your punch before landing one on your ribs. The pain fuels you, and you lunge forward and punch him twice before turning and knocking over Sam. As you move to punch Sam, Clint grabs you from behind, wrapping his arms around your middle, pinning your arms to your sides.

Sam stands, and you manage to kick him in the legs, causing him to drop to the ground again. You pull your head forward before tossing it back, making contact with Clint’s nose. He groans and drops you and you scramble backwards as Sam stalks towards you. He lands a punch on your already bruised ribs, and you cry out in pain before lunging forward and elbowing him in the face. He grunts in pain and spits out blood, before Clint rushes forward and grabs you again, pulling you away from Sam. You stomp on Clint’s toes and he releases you enough to slide from his grip, and you slam your elbow into his ribs, causing him to double over in pain. You jump forwards and knock Sam to the ground, and the two of you roll around until you get him in a headlock. He taps out two seconds later.

You stand and grab two towels, tossing them to the two guys. “Sorry about the blood.”

Clint groans, “I’m gonna tell you like I told Nat, I am NEVER sparring with you again.”

You walk past him to grab your bag, and you turn and give him a wink and dazzling smile. “Who do you think trained me?”

You can hear them complaining as you push through the doors of them gym into the hall, instantly colliding with someone. A metal hand grabs your shoulder to steady you, and you look you up to see the smiling face of your boyfriend. You smile back and stand taller to press a kiss to his lips in greeting. You pull away and nod to the gym door, “You going to train?”

“Yeah, I was just about to-“ He focuses in on the blood on your shirt, eyes growing wide. **“Whose blood is that?!”**

You look down and pinch your shirt between two fingers, pulling it away from your body to inspect it. You look back up at Bucky. “Sam’s. Or maybe Clint’s.” You shrug.

Bucky looks at you in quiet shock before bursting into laughter. He leans down and kisses you. “That’s my girl.”

You grin at him and he shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m gonna go train some. Movie tonight?”

You nod, “You bet.”

He gives you another parting kiss and squeezes your hand in goodbye before turning to walk into the gym. You keep moving down the hall, Bucky’s voice floating towards you. “You guys look like shit. Heard my girlfriend kicked your ass.”

*

You duck down in front of the oven door again, flicking on the inside light to suspiciously eye the cake that was still baking. The recipe gripped tightly in your hands said 25-30 minutes, and you were currently pushing 40 minutes, and it still looked underdone. You were anxious to finish the cake before Bucky’s return; Nat had just texted you to tell you they’d arrive in 10 minutes.

You pull open the oven door a minute later, finally satisfied with the golden edges of the crust, before pulling it from the oven. You set it on the counter to cool before moving to the fridge and pulling out the strawberry preserves, fresh strawberries, and whipped topping. You dump the whipped topping into a bowl and grab the strawberry preserves, removing the lid with a satisfying pop. You start spooning the preserves into the bowl, jumping in surprise when your unforgotten timer starts to beep loudly. You switch it off and look down with a frown to find a blob of preserves dripping down your shirt. You groan and grab a towel to wipe it away, only to smear the preserves down the front of your shirt.

Friday interrupts your moment of frustration. “The team has arrived. Miss Romanoff said you have five minutes.”

“Thank you, Friday!”

You turn back to the bowl and fold the whipped topping and preserves together before dumping it on the top of the cake, spreading it with a rubber spatula as quickly as possible. You wash a few strawberries and place them artfully on the cake, the last one situated just as Bucky walks through the door. You look up at him and smile widely, yelling, “Happy Birthday!”

He smiles at you and you meet in the middle of the kitchen where he pulls you into a kiss. He pulls away and looks down at you, his eyes traveling down to your shirt. He sighs. **“Whose blood is that?** Did you get a nosebleed?”

You look down and laugh. “No, it’s just strawberry preserves.”

He laughs and replies, “I think you like these blood scares.” He looks over your shoulder at the cake on the counter. “And what’s this?”

You smile and walk him to the cake. “Strawberry Angel food cake. Steve said your mom would make it for you. I know chocolate is your favorite, but…”

He smiles down at you, placing a quick kiss to your nose. “No, it’s perfect,”

*

“Barnes, how are we looking on the perimeter?”

“Still clear. Did you guys find the hostages yet?”

Natasha shakes her head beside you before realizing that Bucky can’t see her. “No, but we have two floors left.”

You both stop at a fork at the end of the hall, and Nat gestures to the left. “I’ll take left, you take right. Meet back here in 5.”

“Copy that.”

You turn to the right and keep jogging down the hall, alert and searching for any sign of the hostages from the British government. The hallway starts to progressively dip down, the lights growing dimmer as you move deeper into the building. The hall finally dead ends, a single padlocked door at the end. You pull out your gun and shoot the lock off before pushing the door open slightly and sliding inside. You see a group of people huddled in the farthest corner, so you start lowering your gun and moving towards them slowly. You speak softly, “Hi, I’m-“

You cry out in pain, cutting yourself off, turning to see a man standing there with a knife in his hand, the tip red with your blood. You swipe his legs from under him, knocking him onto his back before kicking him and knocking him unconscious. You look down at your side, blood staining the front from the depth of the knife. Gripping your side, you call out over comms, “Nat, I’ve got em. Sending them your way.”

“Copy.”

You gather the hostages and send them down the hall towards Natasha, who will lead them back to the Quinjet. You bring up the rear after ensuring the room was empty of prisoners and guards. You finally make it back outside, the pain in your side subsiding from the adrenaline. Bucky jogs up to you as you walk towards the Quinjet, smiling at you easily. He hands you a device to contact the British Embassy about the hostages, and when you hand it back, your blood transfers to his hand. He glances down at the blood and then at your bloody hand, chuckling lightly. **“Whose blood is that this time?** Knock a few bad guys out?”

You wince. “No, this time it’s mine.”

His eyes grow wide. “What?! Where are you hurt?”

You wave him off and keep walking to the Quinjet. “Some guard stabbed me in the side. It’s nothing though.”

Determined to contradict you, your knees buckle, your body growing weak from the blood loss. Bucky catches you and lifts you easily, carrying you back to the Quinjet and strapping you onto a stretcher. He cuts away part of your suit to reveal the wound, handling you carefully as he stitches you up. You drift in and out of consciousness, never awake for long.

You wake up a few hours later in the Compound’s Medical Wing, Bucky’s hand gripping yours tightly. He smiles when he sees you awake, and he playfully scolds you. “From this point on, the response to the question ‘whose blood is that?’ is never allowed to be your own. Got it?”

You laugh, “Got it.”


End file.
